


The Undoing of Bill Haydon

by theheartbelieves



Series: The Final Mission [1]
Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bill fucking Haydon, Fix-It, Haydeaux, I love Bill but I hate Bill if you know what I mean, Jim is a saint, Jim is aesthetic AF, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Stirth, messy sex, that ending never happened, they're alive and in love, working out feelings through sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 20:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartbelieves/pseuds/theheartbelieves
Summary: Jim hates that Bill can do this to him; merely touch him and he’s hard. No, not even touch. All it takes is a look from him and Jim is ready. Usually. But today, he feels the need to show Bill just what he does to him, by his very presence. And here, in this place, finally together, there’s no need for restraint.





	The Undoing of Bill Haydon

**Author's Note:**

> A series of more-or-less related ficlets and drabbles about Jim and Bill running away to Argentina together. These boys deserve some happiness.

They’ve been in Argentina for nearly half a year now. It’s more than anything Jim could have ever expected. He certainly didn’t expect it when they ran. He just knew that he couldn’t be without Bill, that he couldn’t deny Bill when he asked him to come. He had expected nothing. Six months ago he wouldn’t have even known to ask for it - the domesticity, the closeness. He wakes up next to Bill every morning and they spend the day bumping into each other in their small ranch and most nights reliving their Oxford years. It’s as if not a day has past when it’s just them, together, in bed.

Bill is more like his old self; more like his Oxford days. Jim half expects to wake up next to a slim, tousle-haired Haydon. The other half of him expects to wake up alone. It still surprises him when he opens his eyes and it’s Bill lying there - wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, greying at the temples, and very,  _ achingly _ real.

Bill is everywhere. He invades Jim’s space. He hogs the bed. He sprawls on the couch, head in Jim’s lap. He crowds Jim, like he’s making up for the last twenty years of increasing distance. Jim is heady with it.

Even in the place he usually demands space, the kitchen, there’s Bill: Bill pressing in close to kiss Jim’s cheek, steal food from the stove, and in general, be the bloody nuisance he’s so good at being. At the moment, Jim’s trying to saute vegetables for a sauce but Bill has slotted himself up against Jim’s back. It starts playfully, Bill pressing kisses to Jim’s neck and hugging him from behind. Then his hands are on Jim’s waist, under his shirt.

Jim tries to ignore it, but he’s already aroused. After years of neglect, Jim’s body is on a hair trigger.

“I’m not hungry for food,” Bill whispers in his ear.

Jim hates that Bill can do this to him; merely touch him and he’s hard. No, not even touch. All it takes is a look from him and Jim is ready. Usually. But today, he feels the need to show Bill just what he does to him, by his very presence. And here, in this place, finally together, there’s no need for restraint.

He turns off the burner and abandons their dinner. He turns around and kisses Bill softly, hands cupping his face. Dinner will keep. Their time together may not. Jim deepens the kiss, pulls Bill against him so he can feel what Bill does to him. Bill hums his approval and Jim chases it with his tongue. He wants all of Bill. Even when Bill is hard against his hip and trying to urge things on, Jim keeps things paced.

Bill breaks the kiss. “Now you’re just being a tease.”

That's when Jim turns Bill around, places Bill's hands on the counter top and says, "Do you trust me?"

Bill  _ shivers _ . "Yes."

"Then don't move." He’s going to show Bill how it’s been for him all these years; the constant, slow ache of  _ if _ and  _ when _ , waiting for Bill, hardly daring to hope. He wants to have the same effect on Bill as Bill has on him. He wants to unravel the man. He wants to undo him, take him apart, and put him back together again.

Jim stays like that for a while, leaning over him, stretching his body out against Bill's. He inhales, just feeling him. Then he runs his hands up over Bill's shoulders. He rakes one hand through Bill's hair, gentle nails and a soft tug. Bill gasps. His hands continue down, firm along his ribs so as not to tickle, and around to his stomach. He can feel the muscles clench there. With deft fingers, he unbuckles Bill's belt, unfastens his pants and strips his lower half bare.

He kneels, grasps first one calf, then the other, directing Bill to step out of his slacks. He runs fingers over his Achilles' tendons, instep, arch, before letting Bill set each foot back down. He tosses the pants aside but stays kneeling. He stays there long enough for Bill to get curious and impatient - he already feels exposed like this.

"Jim?"

Jim runs soothing hands up Bill's legs, over his ass, onto his back. He rucks Bill's shirt up so that he's fully exposed, and he sit forward on his knees. Bill tremors when Jim kisses first one cheek, then the other. Jim's glides his hands back down and kneads the muscle there.

"Jim, what-"

"Trust me."

"I do-" Bill starts to say, but then Jim spreads his palms, exposing him full. Bill leans hard on his arms and lowers his head. Jim can see his face from this angle and his eyes are shut, brow furrowed. He can sense every fibre of Bill's being focused on what Jim is doing. He can't help but smile at that.

He leans forward and pauses, breathes. To let Bill know what's happening. He knows when Bill realises when he tenses ever so slightly, but he stays quiet. That's a good sign.

"Tell me to stop," he breathes. He won't force this on Bill.

"Never," Bill answers immediately, his voice shaky and hoarse already. That's a really good sign.

Jim closes the space and  _ licks _ slowly, from perineum to Bill's hole. Bill's chokes on his gasp and drops to his elbows. He rests his forehead on his hands.

Jim has never done this before. He saw it done at a rather eye-opening club he'd had to attend undercover once. He'd been unable to take his eyes off the boy's expression as his partner buried their face in his ass. It was an image that stuck with him: closed eyes, slack expression, the way he'd pressed back... Ecstatic. In the religious sense of the word.

He'd always wanted to do this to Bill. Never the other way around. He wants that expression on Bill's face always. He wants to be the cause of that expression.

He presses his tongue flat against the ring of muscle, laves at it, draws circles with his tongue. He loses himself in the actions, licking and pressure. Above him, Bill is shaking. When he comes up for air, panting. He kisses Bill's lower back, those lovely indentations.

"How are you holding up?" he says and his voice is surprisingly rough. He's achingly hard now, but he ignores it.

"I'm not," Bill replies weakly and his voice breaks. "Please, Jim. Please. I'm so close. I want-"

Bill is visibly shaking. Jim wraps his arms around his waist, one forearm brushing against Bill's erection. Bill moans low in his chest. His cock is wet with precome. There's more of it on his stomach, smearing under Jim's embrace. Jim buries his face in Bill's back, overcome with want.

"I want you inside me. I could- from this, but I want- I WANT. Iwantiwantiwant..." Bill chants, nearly incoherent.

Jim stands, knees cracking, and grabs the olive oil he'd been cooking with. He spreads a generous amount on his fingers and presses two into Bill, easily. Palm down, he rubs at Bill's prostate.

"Don't! Christ, Jim- I'm so close," he groans. "I'm ready. Please."

Jim ignores him and pushes a third finger in, spreading and stretching. He avoids Bill's prostate though. With his free hand, he palms himself through his jeans. He's more than ready. He manages to fumble the button loose with one hand, while still readying Bill. The man is making small, needy sounds now that Jim recognises. God, he  _ is _ close.

He frees his cock, pulls his fingers out of Bill, and reaches for the olive oil again. He spills far too much and it runs thickly down Bill's legs. It's Jim's turn to moan at the sight of Bill open and wanton before him. He shimmies his jeans down off his hips with the aid of his palms, but it's no use. The oil is going to get everywhere.

He presses up against Bill, drapes himself over the man, seeking as much contact as possible. He wraps his arms around Bill's chest and thrusts against him, not penetrating yet. He drags his cock through the oil, over Bill's hole. Bill whines.

Jim shifts the angle of his hips and the tip of his cock  _ catches _ . Bill moves, pushing back against Jim, he slips inside Bill, and Jim can't hold back any longer, he rocks his hips to meet Bill and slides home. They both pant, holding on to one another. Bill has shifted one of his arms to clutch at Jim's around his chest. He's nealy laying on the counter now.

"Don't move," Bill rasps. He's shaking and gasping underneath Jim. Jim is suddenly worried.

"Did I hurt you?" Bill's response is a breathless laugh.

"Quite the opposite- fuck... move and I'll come." His voice is muffled because he's pressed his forehead to the cold tile of the counter. Jim does his best not to move, but Bill clenches and unclenches around him, almost like he milking him. His hips press forward of their own accord.

"Christ!" Bill smacks his hand on the tile. Jim can read his struggle in every tense muscle, every shuddering exhale. He presses a kiss to the center of Bill's back, then another. He drags his lips across the skin between his shoulder blades and does his best not. To. Move.

Bill's breathing evens out and Jim notices that the man is - consciously or unconsciously - breathing in sync with him. He smiles against Bill's back.

"That was close," Bill whispers.

"You didn't have to hold back," Jim says, thrusting experimentally. Just a small withdraw and press. Bill's breath catches and he pushes himself up from the counter top until they're almost standing.

"I wanted to. I want this to be us. It's so often about me." He turns his head and catches Jim's eye. Jim slides his hand up, cups Bill's cheek and kisses him deeply. He begins to move again.

They kiss and Jim rocks his hips into Bill until they can no longer kiss. But Bill stays with this body turned like that, lips brushing together, his fingers gripping Jim's hip. It's nearly dreamlike - the rhythm of Jim pushing forward, Bill pressing back, the inhale and exhale of their mingled breath. Jim holds Bill so carefully, one arm around his waist, the other across his chest, hand spread over Bill's neck. He feels like he's protecting something precious and being held and protected in return. Time stretches.

And then Bill begins to lose rhythm, lose sync.

"Please tell me you're close." Bill sounds like a broken man.

Jim snaps his hips with more force and makes a noise somewhere in the vicinity of "Yes."

"Fuck," Bill breathes and grinds back against him. "Oh god, Jim-"

Jim chants Bill's name low, one long word that loses all meaning. He thrusts instinctively with no method, clutching Bill to him.

He feels when Bill goes over, wetness on his arm. Bill's cry drags him over-

The next thing he knows he's lying on top of Bill, chest pressed to his back, Bill sandwiched between him and the counter. He shakily gets his feet back under him. His jeans are still shackled around his ankles. He lifts his weight off Bill. They're a mess. The counter's a mess. The floor is a mess.

"That was-" Bill says, unmoving.

"Yeah." Jim agrees. Bill props himself up and turns around, reaching for Jim. They hold onto each other.

"I love you," Bill whispers in his ear. "Far beyond any words or actions I'm capable of."

"I know. You show it."

"You deserve far better, my Jim," Bill says in a voice more like his usual tone. He pulls back a bit and looks at him. "But far be it for me to complain about your choice."

"Works out rather well for you," Jim teases, brushing his nose against Bill's

"Rather."

**Author's Note:**

> For my girl, Chiara. Thank you for suffering in Haydeaux hell with me.


End file.
